Without Words
by Blue Sailor
Summary: Mindful of Dean's aversion to chick-flick moments, Sam tries to give him some space. It turns out that might not actually be what Dean wants. Wincest, cuddles, major fluff and schmoop.


If there's one thing that comes as a surprise to Sam about being in a relationship with his brother, it's how much cuddling they seem to do now. They've always had pretty permeable personal boundaries—kind of a necessity when your main living space is only a few feet by a few feet, and on wheels—but now they seem to be in direct physical contact pretty much constantly. Not that Sam minds. There are few things better, in his opinion, than waking up warm and comfortable with Dean sprawled half on top of him. Even if the clock radio is blaring its alarm on the bedside table, yammering at them to get back on the road for the next leg of the three-day drive it's going to take them to get to their next hunt.

Dean reaches across Sam to turn the radio off, then settles back against his chest. "Mornin'," he murmurs sleepily.

"Hey," Sam yawns. He waits for Dean to move so he can get up, but all that happens is Dean starts to stroke his thumb softly over one of Sam's hipbones. "C'mon," says Sam reluctantly, after enjoying the attention for a few moments. "We better get goin'."

"Nope," mutters Dean, his hand moving from Sam's hip to trail up his arm. "'S too early. Wanna stay here."

Sam chuckles, and leans up to kiss him, his eyelids still pleasantly heavy. "Love you," he murmurs against Dean's mouth, without thinking.

Dean's hand stills on his arm, and Sam's eyes pop wide open, his heart suddenly pounding. They might be sleeping together, and they might cuddle and touch all the time now, but that doesn't mean Dean has nullified his rule about chick-flick moments, and saying _I love you_ definitely counts as one.

Before Sam can get a good enough look to assess his brother's reaction, though, Dean's eyes are sliding away from his, and he turns his head to press his nose into Sam's hair, hiding his expression.

"We're not driving more than an hour for a job after this," Dean says after a few seconds. His voice is perfectly even, as though nothing out of the ordinary has just occurred.

Sam sighs, and wriggles out of Dean's grip to start packing up their bags. Dean continues to complain at increasing volume about getting up, but he doesn't say anything in response to Sam's statement.

*S*P*N*

A short while later, Sam considers his brother as they sit across from each other in a diner booth. He seems completely at ease, tucking into his plate of eggs and bacon with his usual gusto. Sam, on the other hand, only picks at his food, too busy nursing a small twinge of hurt at the way Dean ignored him saying that he loved him.

Hurt soon gives way to guilt, however. Sam has been selfish; he's been enjoying their new relationship and the closeness that came with it so much during the last few weeks, he's forgotten that Dean isn't usually the affectionate type. He probably only indulges Sam in it because he always indulges Sam in everything, and, if his behavior this morning is anything to go by, his tolerance for it is running low.

"You know," Sam tells him once they're back in the Impala, "you don't have to do anything just to humor me."

"Dude," says Dean, shooting him an amused look as he throws the car into reverse and twists to peer out the rear window. "When do I ever do anything just to humor you?"

Sam doesn't respond to that, because the honest answer is _all the time,_ and he doesn't think Dean would appreciate him saying it out loud any more than he appreciated Sam saying _I love you._

"Just so you know," he says instead. "You don't have to."

"Okay," says Dean, but Sam knows he didn't manage to get the message across, because as soon as they're back on the highway Dean's hand drifts over to rest against his thigh, and stays there.

*S*P*N*

Sam decides to take a more proactive approach when they stop for gas and snacks a few hours later. He maintains a careful distance between them, lagging behind Dean on the way into the gas station, and once they get inside he immediately heads to the opposite end of the store from where Dean is picking out junk food. When they get in line to pay, he resists the urge to step right up close to Dean and brush their arms together, making sure there's at least a six-inch gap between them.

All his good intentions come to naught, though, when Dean closes the gap for him.

*S*P*N*

Sam doesn't get it. It's as if Dean is purposefully thwarting his attempt to give him some space. His hand finds its way back to Sam's thigh as they drive through the afternoon and evening; he throws his arm over Sam's shoulders as they walk into a fast-food joint for dinner; he tangles their feet together while they eat their greasy burgers and even greasier fries at a picnic table outside.

There's a motel not far down the road from the fast-food place. It's a dive, like all of the places they stay in, but it's clean, which makes it better than most. As soon as the place is warded Sam flops gratefully down onto the bed. Dean joins him a second later, and Sam scoots over, still mindful of his efforts to give him room, but Dean just moves right along with him.

"Why are you being so twitchy today?" he asks as Sam is finally cornered against the edge of the bed, and Dean is able to tuck himself into his side.

Sam sighs. He's been hoping to avoid talking about it, seeing as he's made Dean uncomfortable once already today and has no desire to do so again, but it seems there's no help for it. "I just thought I'd give you a break from this," he says.

"From what?"

" _This,"_ says Sam, flapping a hand vaguely in an attempt to describe without words what they're doing. He's pretty sure _cuddling_ is another word Dean would hate hearing out loud. "I know you can't be okay with it."

Sam feels him give a lazy shrug. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it?"

"You're the one who said no chick-flick moments," Sam points out, exasperated. "And you didn't seem very happy this morning when I—" He breaks off, takes a deep breath, and continues more calmly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything you don't want to do."

Dean props himself up on one elbow to look at him. "Sam…."

"It's okay," says Sam, easing himself out from under his brother. "I get it. I'll pull out the sleeper for tonight, give you some space."

"No, Sam, listen," says Dean, now sounding a little desperate. He grasps at Sam's shirt, keeping him on the bed, and Sam pauses, waiting, but Dean doesn't continue. His eyes are lowered as if in shame, his lips moving inarticulately, his hands smoothing along Sam's shoulders and chest in a strangely wistful gesture.

And suddenly, it clicks. Dean didn't ignore Sam when he said he loved him; in fact, Sam realizes, he's been acknowledging it all day, in the only way he can.

Sam reaches out, wraps a hand around the back of Dean's head, tugs gently on the short hairs there until Dean is forced to look up at him. "I love you," he says experimentally.

Immediately, Dean leans forward and kisses him, soft and sweet, and then he breaks away and buries his face in the crook of Sam's neck, his arms twining around his ribcage. Sam grins, suddenly giddy, and sinks back down onto the bed, pulling Dean with him.

"Yeah, I know," Sam whispers to him. "You love me too, huh?"

Dean doesn't reply, but Sam can feel his smile against his skin, and that's answer enough.

* * *

 **A/N:** I participated in Wincest Love Week on Tumblr last month (it was awesome, you all should go look up the tag). This is based on one of my headcanons: "Of the two of them, Dean turns out to be the cuddly one. Sam is surprised by this until he realizes it's a way for him to express his feelings without talking about it. "

Hope you enjoyed it! If you have any comments, I'd love to hear from you.


End file.
